There's a Rebel in My Bed! [✓]

23. All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1/2

                                     There’s A Rebel In My Bed!

                          Chapter 23 – All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1/2

                          Song Of The Chapter: Saltty Sweet by Ms Mr

 

 

 “Good evening, Evan.” Allen greeted and fleetingly gestured to the seat in front of him. “I was starting to think that you’d pussied out of this – seeing that is one of your more flamboyant qualities.”

I rested my hand on the back of the chair and waited so the waiter could take my coat off for me.

We were in one of the more midscale restaurants in town. The school had this tradition in which the contenders for President would have dinner before the final votes are counted and a winner was named. So, they paid for our dinner in which we were to laugh and be friends and whatnot. Allen was already here, with his brunette hair gelled back and his tux fitted to perfection. “You don’t look half bad when you’re not in your usual horns and tail ensemble.”

“Oh.” He chuckled condescendingly. “I clean up well.”

I smiled down, akin to this tone of voice and took the moment to look around the room. The place was full to the brim with people; all dressed in rich looking outfits and all chatting amongst themselves that created this big ball of little noise. The tables themselves were covered in dark cloths, as if the owners knew that blood would be shed tonight.

There was a candle lighting our table, as if the table was prepared for something little more romantic. It had been the opposite.

“I do not mean to interrupt your internal monologue-ing.” Allen said, and I looked back over to him, catching the reserved smile at his lips. “But, we are going to be here for an hour, and I would rather we talk about something instead of me eating while you stare with big doe-y eyes your surroundings like a kindergartener at Chuck E Cheese’s. Now, shall we discuss your timely demise tomorrow?”

I turned my body to face him and folded my arms across my chest. “What exactly could we possibly have to discuss, Allen?” I asked. “We both know that the only thing you’re going to do is throw a couple of insults at me regarding my 'sexual promiscuity'” - I used air quotes for that – “while I sit here and ignore you. Don’t you think all of that is getting a bit old? Besides, you have no idea what is going to happen tomorrow.”

“Oh?” he laughed. “You don’t think I know about your secret weapon being my ex-boyfriend?” There was a brief second. “You want to know the clear difference between me and you Evan?” He asked. He did not wait for me to answer. “Your entire being is intertwined by your relationship with other boys. Your entire story depends on Jacob and Alex and Kasper and whoever has had a chance to fill your ass with what is inside their pants – assuming that you are a bottom, which, let’s not kid ourselves. You think that bringing Matt into the mix suddenly will have me crumbling to my knees and have me begging for mercy?” He snorted. “You’re not an idiot Evan. You are not stupid Evan. You have this problem in which you spend most of your time wrapped around the pretty fingers of these boys that you have no identity outside of them; you are as boring as dish water without them; there is no Evan Harris if they are not there. I do not depend on boys, I do not care for Matt anymore, that boat has sailed from the dock and crashed and sunk somewhere out to sea. I will win this election and you will fall into the arms of one of your men to heal the pain.”

“…You think you’re so high and mighty, Allen.” I responded with a voice just a bit above a whisper, so low that it was lost among the tiny table chatter inside the restaurant. “Maybe you are right, maybe I depend too much on boys and you’re spot on when you claim that I do not know who I am as of yet, and you stuck gold when you asserted that I am stereotypical, but I'm not the one who spends most of is time obsessing over me."